


This Place We Call Home

by Subtle_Shenanigans



Series: Dissassociation [12]
Category: Video Blogging RPF
Genre: Alien?Phil, AlienRoommates!AU, Aspie?Phil, Billycons, Bossotronio/Bossotronian!Jack, Dismalen!Dan, Earth is a dampening planet, Emotions, Friendship, Gen, Humans, Humor, Hybrids, I guess technically platonic Phan?, Kræhnk!Ethan, Later “characters” only appear in certain chapters, NO PHAN, No Septiplier, Not YouTubers AU!, One-Shot Series, Septic Eye Sam - Freeform, Shenanigans, Theyre all friends you guys, Warfian!Mark, check A/Ns for possible warnings, ignorance, mentions of depression, possible mentions of ADD, possible mentions of Amyplier, post-reveal, pre-reveal, really trying for that one, silliness, sorta crack!fic?????, symbiotic relationships, tiny box tim, wilford warfstache - Freeform
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-06-16
Updated: 2019-05-14
Packaged: 2019-05-24 00:01:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 16,067
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14943815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Subtle_Shenanigans/pseuds/Subtle_Shenanigans
Summary: For four roommates of varying species, daily life brings along many adventures . . . as well as challenges.Experimental one-shot series of the AlienRoommates!AU.AlienRoommates!AU #4





	1. Cooking incident (PRE)

**Author's Note:**

> So. . .
> 
> Uh.
> 
> Couldn't think I quite what I wanted to do - I had a few snippets of action or dialogue in my head, but no coherent story.
> 
> And I came across more Tumblr sentence prompts that I chose from - I don't have tumblr, by the way, so I can't verify the user name for the posts, but I'll put the username as appears in the picture on chapters where I use the prompts.
> 
> Each chapter will also have a (POST) or (PRE) in the title, to indicate whether they know or do not know if the others are aliens.
> 
> Anyways, this is experimental one-shots, so minimal coherency, and sometimes either fully dialogue or fully descriptive pieces.

"So, uh. . ."

  Dan looked at the smoking pot; whatever had been cooking mere moments before was charred black, and melted into the silver interior.

    He looked at Jack, something bordering fear in his brown eyes. "Am I going to tell Mark or are you?"

    Jack bit his lip, blue eyes nervously looking not just at the inedible remains, but also darting to the mess littering the counter and dripping down onto the floor. Empty, gray cartons glared back mockingly.

    Dan swore Seán's eyes looked green briefly whenever he felt this much emotion come from the Irishman, but that was neither here nor now, as the undisputed 'leader' of the apartment would be home in mere minutes.

    Far too soon to clean the mess and hide the evidence.

    But that wouldn't stop them from trying, apparently.

    "You soak the pot," he finally responded, "and I'll start on wiping the counters and dumping this mess into the trashcans. Get the windows open and the fan on, while you're at it."

    Dan didn't even argue - simply did as told with a rapid ferocity that even Phil would be caught off guard by.

   ( _Despite hiding the traces of their debacle as best as they could, Mark knew as soon as he got home. Phil walked in to him lecturing both the brown-haired men._

 _They were put on "probation" for the following month, after "The Egg Incident", and couldn't cook together without supervision from Mark himself._ )

    

       


	2. Fiends (POST)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's no secret that Phil and Jack are sugar-stealers.
> 
> But that doesn't mean every disappearance is their fault.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's only post-reveal because I mention that they know each other's species, but this could sorta apply pre-reveal too I guess.
> 
> Sorry weird day so writings a little bloopy.
> 
> I tried Hob Nobs once. Pretty good. I think I spelt them right.

    If there was one thing that Dan knew, it was that Phil was addicted to sugar.

    Dan had his own days, of course, where he didn't eat much except cereal or junk, but Phil took it to a whole new level. Dan could literally not count how many times his best friend had stolen chocolate chips and marshmallows meant for baking, or other such candies. (And let's not even talk about his cereal being stolen.) He was starting to become worried it was a compulsion issue for the raven-haired boy.

    But while Phil tended to nab sugar quite a bit and become spazzy, he had a rival in their Irish roommate.

    Dan wasn't sure whether it was some Bossotronio issue - maybe he needed the extra energy because he burned it too fast? - or if Jack just had an addiction, but there were as many accidents with Jack as with Phil.

    The Brit set down his grocery bag, a little huffily, as he surveyed the kitchen; it was too clean, immaculate. Not a crumb to be seen.

    But the cookies he needed to crumble for the dessert he was going to make was mysteriously gone, as was the packaging void from the bin.

    Dan didn't get angry, really - just irritated. But he really was quite irritated at the moment.

    Phil must have felt the _irritation who jerks had plans ugh irritated disgruntled_ coming from him as soon as he walked in, as he began to approach slowly, inquiring, "Dan?"

    Phil would have laughed at the expression on Dan's face if he didn't know that his friend was really irritated. Instead, he waited blankly for Dan to answer.

    "Did you eat the rest of the Hob Nobs?" He asked, voice stern.

   Phil blinked, confused. "What do you mean? Are they _gone_?" It was clear from his tone that it wasn't him. "I've been at work all day, and besides - you told Jack and I specifically not to touch them."

    Dan slowly relaxed, brow confused. "Okay, so it wasn't you. And Jack is doing that Twenty-four hour nap thing after keeping his freaky eyeball pet out for half a day. And Mark doesn't touch stuff he didn't buy without asking. So who. . .?"

     Phil stifled a laugh, grinning behind his hand. Dan merely gave a disgruntled, "What?"

    Phil just kept chuckling, blue eyes twinkling.

    "I swear to god Phil if you don't tell me what's so funny-"

     He snapped his mouth closed as he felt _merriment silly Dan forgetful funny_ , and Phil breathed out between his chuckling, "Top shelf."

    Dan looked at the cabinet in confusion. Then his eyes rose up to the gap between the top of the cabinet and the roof. Embarrassment flushed through him as he remembered squirreling away certain things up there so that the "shorties" couldn't get them, and Phil was too clever to incriminate himself by stealing from there.

    _Idiot embarrssed oh yeah forgot._

_Silly dork it's okay fondness._

    He pulled the cylindrical packaging down, muttering, "I hate you," to his friend, who just kept giggling, "no you don't."


	3. Restless quiet (PRE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark sometimes had nights when he just couldn't sleep. For him, it was nothing special.
> 
> For Jack though, well, it was sorta a secret as to the whole _why_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> IT IS MIDNIGHT OH FIVE MY DUDES.
> 
> I'm overtired. But sleep is for those of us without insomnia issues.
> 
> (Well, pretty sure insomnia. That, or stubbornness.)
> 
> I'll need to go back to fix typos, but uh, fair warning if my sentences are backwards in any story; I'm pretty sure I have slight dyslexia. Quite a few people in my family are diagnosed with it, though I never have been - I mean, it may not actually be dyslexia, because I can read really well (unless it's aloud, in which case I flounder), but I do flip sentece structures, letters, and words. So if it pops up as an obvious mistake, feel free to ignore it.
> 
> EDIT: I finished this around one the next day. Friendly reminder that they live in England, hence Pounds being used, and I'm just guessing the price is expensive (I think £1 is equal to $1.95??? $1.75???)

_restless quiet (PRE)_

* * *

  If there was one thing that Jack both hated and loved as part of his alien nature, it was how the thrum of energy affected his sleep.

   On one hand, it was great to feel so full of life - to get so much done, and efficiently.

   On the downside, he had to keep it a secret - on the nights where he physically could not sleep (he would learn in time to 'turn off' the flow of energy), he couldn't just wander around the apartment. His roommates were more than likely asleep, so his activities were limited.

   Plus, he knew he would crash soon, and for a while.

    So for the time being, he had taken to watching tv at a very low volume in the living room (he had yet to save enough for a tv in his own room). It was mostly infomercials, and selling shows. He had even found a nice house flipping series at one point - he would mutter commentary in a low voice to himself, as he couldn't hear the people on it too well.

   Tonight was one of those bold nights, where he had Sam out and on his lap, gently stroking the little eyeball like he was a kitten. The show on the screen had a woman and man discussing a bright magenta handbag, with the little 'WOW!' bubble displaying the ridiculous price of £29.95.

    Jack tried to calculate it into Euros, but found he couldn't. "Ugh, weird British currency."

    "You could say that."

    Jack managed to slip Sam into his hoodie pocket when he heard Mark's deep chuckle. His heart was racing, though he was certain Mark hadn't seen Sam. It wasn't like he could 'send him back' - the flash of energy would be too obvious.

    Jack turned as he felt the couch dip, Mark setting himself down on it. There were shadows under the American's eyes, something tired in his gaze. He motioned to the set with one hand, "I think that's like, sixty dollars? Or something? Maybe a little less."

    Jack looked back at the screen, keeping his hands in his pocket and stroking Sam to keep him quiet. "Hmm."

   They sat in silence for a bit, nothing but the glow of the set to illuminate their faces vaguely white-blue.

    Jack's the one who decided to speak up first. "So, what's got you up?"

    He glanced at his friend, catching his quirked brow. "You're asking me?"

    A shrug. "Yeah."

    ". . ." He watched Mark for a moment, as he gazed at the screen. "It's just one of those nights; too quiet. You?"

    Jack felt the energy that flowed through him slow down; thought of the restless quiet that had needed to be filled. "Me too," he answered softly.

    They stayed like that, watching tv and letting the sound comfort them. Neither fell asleep until the sun began to crest the horizon - Jack deconstructing Sam in his sleep.

    That's how Dan found them the next morning; Jack curled into a ball and muttering softly, while Mark lay with his head back and snored. Both obviously comfortable and content.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For people reading this: This is more of a fluff series. If you're wanting fluff and friendship, then welcome. If you're looking for horror/angst, then may I direct you to _Static_. It's in the same series, just a very different story. 
> 
> I don't really like to advertise, I'm just sorta proud of it I guess??? And, well, for me it's a completely different genre in branching out to, so I wanted to share that I have some diversity in my writing. Heck, even humor is newer to me. I dunno. Ignore me, I'm sleep deprived.


	4. Cute (POST)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dan was used to it, in a way. Being called cute by girls he passed by.
> 
> But he'd never been called it like _this_ before.
> 
> A first time for everything, right?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I sorta got this idea from when I remembered that part in "Dan and Phil react to teens react to Dan and Phil", where the girls says Dan's hot, and Phil gets offended, because he feels he's hot too (I don't have an opinion on anyone's appearance unless it's a guy I find attractive, personally, but that's probably just cause I have Asperger's. *shrugs*)
> 
> Anyways, then I remembered my whole Dismalen pet headcanons, and how clingy Dan is with Phil, so-
> 
> There's literally little to no context. Just assume either all four roommates ended up in Space, or they're at some sort of festival on Earth that Aliens tend to sneak into. It's more about the interactions than surroundings, here.

_Cute (POST)_

* * *

 

    Dan, despite his depression, didn't find it unusual when girls giggled his way, whispering things like, "He's sure cute."

   In fact, he looked forward to it, since Phil would stand straighter, voice a mixture of dejected and playfully offended, muttering, "Hey! I'm cute _too_." 

   Dan knew he wasn't really offended, though; despite the exaggerated pout on his face, he felt nothing but _silly funny companionship joke game_  that came from Phil (he tried his best, "playing along" in a way that he figured people were supposed to, but it had that genuine Phil feeling to it.)

    And if he ever was actually hurt (because it did happen so often, that someone's eyes would slide right off of Phil, and latch on to Dan), then he just let Phil know that he was _friend great adorable wonderful **amazing**_.

    So while Dan could say he didn't find such a compliment unusual, never had he been givin it in _this_ fashion.

    "Aww, lookit him! He's so cute!" There was a pair of girls, one blond with peachy skin, and the other shorter with copper hair. If you looked really closely, you could see that they weren't human - there was something off about the shape of the limbs, their build. Plus, their irises were an almost anime-glowing sky blue and fuchsia, respectively.

   (Who was that dude Mark and Jack met? Felix or something? He probably knew what species these two were.)

    They came up to Dan and Phil with the same energy of those who spotted a dog. Which, Dan would find, wasn't too far off.

    They came right up close to them, practically cooing at Dan, who looked at his best friend in bewilderment. Phil looked back in panic, becoming even more flustered as they directed their statement to him. "Your Dismalen is absolutely adorable! Just look at him!!" "Isn't he such a cutie, Xedda? Can we pet him, Sir?"

    "I - uh, what?" Phil stuttered out.

    Dan was so taken aback, he kept silent, drawing a little closer to Phil.

    "Your Dismalen," the blond said. "You're his owner, aren't you?"

    "Aw," Xedda, the copper-haired one said in a hushed voice. "Lookit him, Frehn - he's shy!"

     "Uh, well, you see, he's, er," he glanced at Dan, his blue eyes wide. Dan was just as befuddled, even _embarrassed confused kerfuddled flummoxed what?_

 "I'm not a pet," Dan eventually choked out, face scarlett. But the girls ignored him entirely. Well, at least they didn't acknowledge that the sounds he made were even words.

   Phil tried to salvage the situation as best as he could, scratching the back of his head; he was clearly uncomfortable with the whole situation, and not just because Dan could sense it. "Look, girls. Um, this is my friend, Dan. He's not - it's illegal for Dismalens to be pets on Earth."

    They blinked uncomprehensively; probably thinking their translators weren't working properly. 

    After a moment, in which Phil tried to send Dan _calm I got this it's okay_ , he relented, ". . .He's shy."

   They squealed once more, though respected them and didn't try to touch Dan, but the implied compliments still ended up feeling demeaning.

    (Later, when the initial embarrassment died down, Phil was sure to bring it up vaguely on occasion, which left both Jack and Mark in amused confusion as Dan either shrieked and cursed Phil out, or chased Phil around the apartment with intent to make him pay.)

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm really overtired and I've been sick with cramps all day, so characterization is out the window. But I'm smiling to myself while writing, so it's worth posting.


	5. "I can't believe I'm sitting in Space Jail with you of all people." - Part 1 (POST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, there was a pic of a tumblr post on Instagram with prompts, and that's where the idea for this whole thing started.
> 
> Prompts are by toxic-pumpkin, with this one a dialogue of: "I can't believe I'm sitting in Space Jail with you of all people."
> 
> So of course I had to do the AlienRoommates!AU.
> 
> I will be adding grammar/emphasis changes to these.
> 
> I believe these are free prompts for everyone, so any I take from the list, feel free to do them yourself!
> 
> EDIT: Mark just came back so I decided to finish and post this one.

 ((Part 1 - POST))

* * *

* * *

 

 "I can't _believe_ I'm sitting in Space Jail, with you of all people."

     The sentence rang out, echoing amongst the metal hallway. Dan's tone was clearly on a fine line between hopeless exasperation, and genuine offense.

    "Yeah, well I hope you get probed, so there," Phil replied huffily.

    "Can you two _please_ not bicker like old women? We've been abducted, and they took Jack away god knows where. I don't need you two taking your frustration out on one another," Mark deadpanned.

    Dan glanced at Mark - _worry worry irritation anger protection anger anger impatience_ \- noting how the Warfian lay on his back, hair fanning out on the floor beneath him. He knew the half-Korean was right - emotions just ran high, and Dan's own _fear fear remember capture_ clashed with Phil's strong sense of _anxiety worry fear protect help_.

     It wasn't anyone's fault, really; they had been at a farmer's market when Phil spotted something shiny, in an isolated corner, and began to talk to the seller. They had been so engrossed that they didn't notice when a set of hands came up behind them, and knocked them unconscious.

    Apparently Jack and Mark had noticed, tried to stop them, but had been also rendered unconscious.

    By time they woke up on the ship, Jack was gone, the guard merely sneering at them before walking off.

    But not before noting his orange eyes.

    Orange eyes were bad. They meant Billycons.

    One of the strongest, cruelest, and smartest beings in the galaxy, who had an absolute searing hatred for Bossotronians.

    "Did that Felix guy give you any tips on dealing with them," Dan asked, tilting his head towards the end of the hall, where the guard was. Mark gave a noise, that Dan took as a 'no.'

     Phil, who was sitting in dejection, finally (he had been pacing, after fighting against the cell bars - they all had), finally said, "You think Jack's okay?"

    Mark snorted suddenly. "You're asking if Seán's okay? That jerk is probably giving those Billycons a run for their effing money."

     Dan knew he was probably right - at least, that Jack was holding out. He couldn't help feeling _doubt worry scared concern worry worry_ causing his stomach to knot up, though.

    When they had first awoken, he had instantly sensed that they weren't on Earth any longer. He had tried to calm down, but Phil had clearly felt his absolute terror and trills of _lost longing homesick_ \- that's what had eventually lead to their little tiff, Dan becoming increasingly agitated, and Phil becoming near hysterical internally as his tendency to over-empathize kept the two of them on a looped feedback.

   While they were a great set of best friends because of their unique abilities, it really did make it hell at times.

    All three of them sat up suddenly as a guard came by, with an old-fashioned key that he slitted into the slot of their cell. Jack was with him, hands bound tightly behind his back, and some sort of . . .shock collar (?) clamped around his throat. There was blood caking his hairline, as though someone had hit him with something hard, but besides that he seemed fine.

   The guard let Jack walk himself in, the Irishman glancing out warily. There was a nod from the guard, and then he left.

   They swarmed the Bossotronio, checking him over for further injury, and asking him what had happened. Jack seemed jumpy, maybe a tad shaken up.

    "Gawd," he breathed. "There's so much to go over - but not right now." His voice was low, hushed, and the others were quiet. "All you need to know is that there's a plan - just, be ready in a couple a hours, okay?"

    "What do you mean-" 

    Mark cut Dan off, "We trust you Seán. Are you - are you _okay_ , at least."

   Jack didn't meet their eyes at first, then glanced up, giving a passing smile and shrug. "Of course."

   "You're a shizzy liar, Seán."

    Jack stuck his tongue out at Mark. "Of course I had to be thrown in space jail with you of all people."

   Dan elbowed Phil and snickered, his best friend shooting him a dirty look.

    "I should be saying that to _you_ ," Mar responded, exasperated.  He shook his head pitifully.

   "So now what?" Phil asked.

    "Now," Jack glanced back out the cell, in the direction the guard who had brought him had gone. "Now, we wait."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, originally before the AlienRoommates!AU I was going to do an Alien!AU where multiple YouTubers get kidnapped by the Billycons (Jack and Felix, maybe Ethan having been kidnapped almost six months prior) and mostly from Mark's POV. There's this coincidental think where YouTubers tend to be aliens for some weird reason, and they need to escape the ship an go on a bit of a space adventure - Jack and Felix are pretty messed up after finding out they're aliens, and being ill-treated on the ship. The only problem is the idea was too hard to fully figure out, and I have no clue how to write Felix, who I don't watch, or Ethan, who I recently started watching.
> 
> Anyways, some of this one-shot is very vaguely taken from that concept - mostly how they escape.


	6. Notorious (PRE)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cereal goes missing. _American_ branded cereal. And Mark has no idea who could have taken it.
> 
> Lucky for him, Dan does.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Let's have some light hearted humor before I give you that Part 2, hmm?
> 
> Oh, and the next chapter after this will be purely crack!fic (meaning not exactly canon _or_ serious in any way.)
> 
> By the way, I don't know much about international brands of cereal OR what kind Mark likes, so I just chose an obscure one that I don't think they sell in England (except maybe in one of the American food aisles.) Plus, it's a good cereal.

_Notorious (PRE_ )

* * *

   Gone. 

   It was just . . . _gone._

   Mark scanned the top of the fridge once more; Dan's Crunchy Nut, Phil's Cinnamon Squares, Jack's Lucky Charms-

   But no Honey Grahm Oh's.

    He checked the pantry. Double checked it. Glanced in the fridge, and the mircrowave (lord knows that even after three months - and the Peeps incident - they were sure to check every nook and cranny when a kitchen item was misplaced.)

    He scratched his head and gave a little chuff, irritated, but not angry. It wasn't his _favourite_ cereal, but he liked it well enough. Plus, it was an American brand - he had seen it in the special aisle and grabbed it, a fond smile blooming on his face. It reminded him of breakfasts back home, when he was a kid, and could freely converse with Tim and Wilford.

   But now it was gone, and Mark's attitude soured a little that he hadn't even eaten more than a single bowl of it.  

      _Bzzzzt bzzzzt. bzzzzzzzt bzzzzt._

    Mark fished his phone out of his pocket as it buzzed, not even checking the number. It didn't have a ringtone yet, so unless it was bill collectors, than it had to be none other than-

    "Hey Dan; what's up?"

    "I'm at the store," the Brit mumbled. Echoes of distorted sounds bouncing off of cold tile floor could be faintly distinguished. "Need anything?"

    Mark have a deep sigh. "Uh, yeah, gimme a sec." He went ahead and reassessed the cabinets and refrigerator, while Dan silently continued his shopping on the other end.

    "Okay, so we could probably use another set of eggs soon," he picked up the milk cartons, shaking them, "And the lactose free milk is almost gone. The two percent is pretty much full though. I think that's it for basics."

   "Hmm," Dan hummed. "Okay. Anything else?"

    "Uh," Mark felt bad for asking, but he really does want that cereal. "Can you get me a box of Honey Grahm Oh's? They should be in the American foods section. My box went missing."

   There was something, something like a jolt of silence from the other end. Then a softly chuckled swear word, petering into held-back laughter.

   Mark furrowed his brow. "What's so funny?"

    "I'm sorry - oh my effing- I should have warned you guys; he's _notorious_ for this-"

     "For what?" Mark asked, confused.

    Dan could be heard, trying to calm his mirth. Mark vaguely got the impression that he was a tad embarrssed, too. "Okay. Okay. So- Phil's home, yeah?"

    ". . .yes?"

    "Okay, good, good," Dan sucked in sharply, awkward laughter threatening to bubble forth. "He's such a bloody idiot," there was no bite in the statement; rather, fond exasperation. "So here's what you'll do: Go down the hall, _quietly_ , to his room, then slam the door open. You can't give him time to hide. There's a good chance you'll find your cereal."

    "Are you saying-?"

     Dan cut him off. "Just go do it, yeah? I'm gonna finish up the shopping. Oh! And get a pic of you can. Need to record the shame."

   He hung up before Mark could reply, and in slight bewilderment, he began his trip to Phil's room, careful to step quietly on the rug in their hall. His footfalls were near silent, and he eased his hand on the doorknob. 

   Suddenly, the door slammed open and Phil jumped, shrieking, from his spot on the floor. Mark just stood there, watching Phil flail about, face red in surprise and clear embarrassment. On the floor sat the missing box.

    ". . ."

   Mark just walked into Phil's room, picking the box up ( _almost a third of it already gone_ ). Phil just watched, shuffling guiltily, and munching down on the last bit of cereal in his mouth.

   "Mm r'lly s'rry," he mumbled around the mouthful of cereal. And he really was - he had done so good, not touching even Dan's box of cereal for the last few months. But then the urge, the undeniable need latched onto him, and he couldn't help himself.

    Dan was right - he really did have a problem.

    Mark just sighed, shaking his head. "Next time, please just ask. I don't mind sharing - just don't take someone's _whole box_ of cereal again, _please_."

    Phil nodded.

    Mark, and eventually Jack, would come to find that it wouldn't be that simple. And even after Dan's warnings, and reprimanding Phil, it would always happen when they least inspected it.

    Too bad Mark didn't get that photo to blackmail him with.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tiny bit lackluster but eh, I'm tired.
> 
> I can't not do anything with Phil's cereal compulsion, because I do the same thing with homemade muffins in my household >u<.
> 
> Mmmm, blueberry banana muffins.


	7. Billycons get wrecked (Non-canon/Crack!fic)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Angry little leprachaun.
> 
> A little to OP maybe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is purely a crack!fic, meaning it is non-canon to this AU, and just absolutely ridiculous all around. My writing 'voice' may be a tad different as a result.
> 
> Y'all can blame my discussion with _horsesandrobotsandtimelordsohmy_ for this one XD.
> 
> Anti, does not, technically exist in this AU. So him popping up is what basically dictates this as non-canon. And then me just throwing a concept, and words into a bag and vigorously shaking before serving it up to you guys is what makes it a purely ridiculous smoothie that is known as a crack!fic.
> 
> . . .I really need better quality sleep.
> 
> EDIT: Should I give a warning that this has blood in it??? Dark humor???
> 
> I'm sorry but this is Anti and the Billycons we're talking about.
> 
> Also guest starring/mention of Good!Billy( _The Boss_ ) as William.

_Anti wrecks the Billycons (Non-canon/Crack!fic)_

* * *

    As the young son of the current commander of the _Migrön_ , Billum was nothing like his father, Bobby.

   Billum - or Billy, as he was more commonly called - was a sadistic, twisted child, if he could even be called that. He was approximately thirty-nine years old, though through growth and maturity he was more around twelve or thirteen. And yet, he was known for 'playing' with prisoners.

   Basically, he was a torturer.

   Now, not all Billycons were sadistic evil beings. Bobby was far too soft in his opinion, as was his younger cousin (who's actual name _was_ William, though Billy threatened him that if he tried to call himself Billy then he would do a manner of unspeakable things to him.) But Billum, now Billum was a shining example of what a Billycon _should_ be.

   And he was going to show that filthy Bossotronio it's place. His lips curled up in disgust and rage, remembering how he was basically one of the last to know about it. Apparently they'd already question him (he should have been _interrogated_ ), and sent him back to his cell, where his companions waited.

   Billy didn't care about the hybrid mutts, or _whatever_ the effing hell the third one was - he just wanted his chance to make the Bossotronio _learn his place_.

   And he was going to take it.

   "Sir?" A guard asked as Billy, barely four foot ten, shoved past him. 

   "I am retrieving the Bossotronio - you are to accompany me, and help bring him to the _sfefden_."

   Unbeknownst to him, down the white metal halls, and in the cell, the four companions had begun their plan. A Dismalen shaking with fear throughout it.

   Billy and the guard paused, as the sound of screaming echoed up the hall. They saw as Harry run towards them, one arm limp and hanging wrongly, howling, " _Helvskarr! Helvskarr!_ "

    He didn't slow as he passed them, merely yowled, " _Run! Larry, Billy, run for your lives!_ "

   But they didn't - there was no time to comprehend. Something like laughter rang out, but it was much to garbled and staticky to decipher. They turned back towards the direction of the cells, and finally saw what had attacked Harry.

   It was the Bossotronio, Billum knew, but it was all wrong: Eyes burning almost hotly with green, lips curled into an unsettling smile, and _Boss Energy_ curling outside of its flesh almost electrically. The shock collar on its throat tightly clamped, the taut tendons showing starkly. It padded toward them steadily, predatorily, no slow nor rush in its advancement.

   Billy, who had always referred to those he tortured as people, because he wanted them to know that he was aware they were sentient, because it hurt them even more - he couldn't find it in himself to view this, this _thing_ as anything other than some sort of nightmare incarnate.

   (None of them, except the prisoners knew it, but being so far from the dampening planet and with a Dismalen was leaking heightened emotions throughout a pretty good radius - their fear was amplified, but was also Dan's fear, and the emotions that this "Anti-Jack" was broadcasting out.)

   " **Well, well, well** ," it chuckled as it drew near. Billy didn't even notice the other prisoners leaving their cell and high-tailing it in the opposite direction. All he could focus on was the layered voice, and the blood on its hands, dripping, dripping down. " **What have we here? Some more puppets to play with?** "

   Billy, of course, was foolishly proud and arrogant. _He_ was the one who played with others - _he_ was the one who had made veteran warriors thrice his age scream for mercy. 

   And he would teach this creature a lesson.

   The creature seemed bored as Billy darted forward, the guard's metal rod swiped from his belt and in the child's hands. He swung it, setting the voltage to max, expressing darkly, "I'll show you how to play."

    Anti ducked back, the rod swiping inches away from his face. He quickly dug his fingers into Billy's wrist, clawing deeply as he wrenched it and sent the rod flying.

   There was a ringing thud mixed with a scream as it flew into Larry's face.

   Reinforcements could be heard rounding the corner; Anti's lip quirked into a smile. Now it would be a party.

   But first, the brat.

   It just took one good punch to send the kid, lights out.

    _No killing no killing no killing no killing._

   His eye twitched as the words repeated in cycle in his head. Part of him vaguely knew it was his own voice, so he felt compelled to listen.

   But only just.

   When the first five soldiers came into range, Anti laughed, jerking forward and startling them. He grabbed one's face and slammed him into his companion; the next, he grabbed a fistful of her hair while slamming his knee into her abdomen. More and more came, as he viscously smacked them into wall, floor, and soldier alike, each going down like sacks of potatoes.

   Eventually they stopped coming, began to run off. He glanced around at the pile of unconscious bodies, irritated that the fun was ending so soon - though looking at a floor literally covered with unconscious people was absolutely _hilarious_.

    Soon enough though, he raced to the escape craft, his mind returning back to being Seán, and features bleeding back to normal.

    "So," Mark asked as he helped him aboard. "Evil self, huh?"

   Dan seemed to visibly relax as he felt Jack's emotional flux was back to normal, and Phil gave him a tight smile; they all ignored the blood on his hands, and caking beneath his fingernails.

   Jack gave him an exasperated look.

   "Oh, _shut up_."

    The escape craft sped off, leaving behind a stationary Billycon ship with more than half of its men beaten down by one little Bossotronio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:
> 
>  _Migrön_ = Military
> 
>  _"Helvskarr!"_ = Monster from their culture; modern word literally translating to "slayer". Expression that is the equivalent to "ah hell no, I'm outie."
> 
>  _sfefden_ = A pet name/fond expression, meaning "happy room". Billum uses it as a term for his torture chamber, as a reference to where ever he inpliments it, not a single specific room. In this case, it's a temporary room on the ship.  
>  ••••••  
> So - this is mostly notes for myself but a heads up for you guys to - the next few chapters will most likely be:
> 
>  _"I'm, like, 75% sure this won't explode on us." (Part 2; POST)_ [Undecided main POV]
> 
>  _Heatwave (Undecided; more likely PRE)_ ((if I have to suffer in this then they do too)) [Mark or Jack main POV]
> 
>  _dismal dreams (POST)_ ((this ones a 'special' sorta)) [Dan main POV]


	8. "I'm, like, 75% sure this won't explode on us" Part 2 (POST)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The four roommates put forth their plan to escape from the Billycons.
> 
> It's a little lackluster, sure, but they're pretty sure it'll work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sequel to the Part 1 piece!!!
> 
> Basically, any sort of parts will correspond (so if I did like, a spa trip two-parter and a cooking two-parter, I would finish the first set, even if one-shots appear in-between.)
> 
> Prompt from the list by toxic-pumpkin.
> 
> Yes, Segway Steve.
> 
> Also, where Jack talks to them about what happens will be a different chapter. After all, time is of the essence in an escape.

_"I'm, like, 75% sure this won't explode on us." Part 2 (POST)_

* * *

   Jack didn't say much; just sat down heavily to rest. 

  Mark let him be. After all, he didn't really seem all _that_ injured, so he wouldn't push it. But the collar around his neck really worried him.

   He could feel Dan's disdain towards it - while Mark could only ever subtly pick up Dan's emotions (Dan's abilities were more for himself to read, and Phil, probably because of their bond), it had been stronger this far from Earth. Poor guy was probably remembering the time those Vevmilons tried to kidnap him.

    But what concerned Mark most was, was it a _shock_ collar? If it was, had they _used_ it on him? How was Seán handling it? And if not, then was it just a show; a way for the Billycons to say, "You're helpless against us"?

     He groaned. "This is so messed up."

   "I'll say."

    Mark turned to see that Phil was still awake; Dan was dozing against his side. He realized how cold the cell was, and shivered.

   "So," Phil shifted a little to get more comfortable, "any idea what his plan is?" His eyes flickered to Jack.

    Mark wrapped his arms around himself. "Not sure, either way, we have a few hours."

    Phil made a noise of acknowledgement.

    "I trust him though," Mark added.

   Phil's head shot up, gaze intense. "Of _course_. I," he glanced away, mumbling, "I trust all of you guys."

    Mark noticed his soft smile, and felt himself smiling too. "Same here."

    There wasn't much else to say, so they eventually dozed off.

* * *

     "Psst, Bossotronio; wake up." 

    Jack's eyes flickered open, green swirling through his irises briefly. He tilted his head, seeing the guard who had escorted him earlier.

    "It's about time," the guard  - Steve - said, hushed.

    Jack nodded, then gingerly got up to go wake the others.

    He didn't know how high the voltage in the collar was, but he was pretty sore from the half-dozen shocks.

    He really hoped they couldn't set it any higher.

   "Hmm, whazzat?" Mark groaned sleepily when Jack shook his shoulder.

    "Time to get the eff out of here," Jack whispered.

    Mark was alert at that, nodding, and getting up quickly to stretch. Jack wandered over to Dan and Phil, shaking the latter's shoulder. Phil opened his eyes, disoriented, and his shifting seemed to wake Dan.

    "Who's that?" Phil asked, seeing the guard.

   "This?" Jack pointed his thumb at the Billycon, who inclined his head politely. "This is Steve. He doesn't really agree with the Billycon Ruler at the moment; he's agreed to help us escape." 

    Mark's brow furrowed. ". . .and you think we can trust him?"

    "Considering he stopped that Billum brat from beating the absolute shite out of me, I'd say he's okay."

   His friends gave wide-eyed stares to him, the guard, and back again.

    Mark was ready to dig with questions about what exactly had happened, but Jack cut him off before he had a chance to speak. "Look, I'll give you guys details later. The fact is, I'm fine right now, and we need to go _now_. Okay?"

   "Okay; we trust you," it was Phil who had spoken up. The other two nodded in agreement. 

    Jack sighed, still fatigued despite his rest. "Okay, let's get out of here."

    Guard Steve unlocked the cell, latching it closed again after they all came out. He led them down to the left at a quick walk.

    "The normal ship bay is under careful watch, so we'll need to go to the repair sector. There's a decent _Sehgweh_ that just needs a few adjustments."

    The cool hallways seemed to stretch on forever as the five of them travelled.

   "But how are we going to leave in a broken ship?" Dan asked.

  "That's where the Warfian comes in," Steve explained.

    Mark's shoes squeaked against the floor as he stopped short. "Wait wait wait - hold up. You expect _me_ to fix some alien spacecraft? I'm a Bioengineer! Not a rocket scientist!"

    He turned to face Jack, who had set his hand on his friend's shoulder. "Mark. Ye're the only one with any sort of idea about mechanical stuff. We need your help. You can _do_ this."

    "Yeah! I mean, you fixed the microwave after the Peeps incident," Phil added, smile bright.

     Dan nodded in agreement, a sense of _trust_ rolling off of him. "I mean, it's a mostly fixed ship, right?" Steve gave him a nod. "So there; see? You're just gonna . . .be tweaking it a bit."

   "It shouldn't be much of a problem," Steve added. "I was on that ship the last time it was damaged, and it didn't take any heavy fire; it should be a quick fix. But we'll need to hurry - the _Migrön_ are going to realize that you're gone, soon."

    They didn't ask what Migrön meant; just hurried after the Billycon guard to the repair sector. Signs marked different junctions, and though the letters were similar to the English Alphabet, the style was completely different, and they had no inkling of the words' meanings.

     They finally made it to the hangar, which was dimly lit. There was only two, smaller crafts and a medium sized one in the whole space. It seemed to be deserted.

    "Where is everyone?" Phil asked, voice hushed.

    "Hopefully, asleep or attending to other duties. It's the 34th Raye; a designated resting period for most personnel," Steve supplied, in a way of answering.

    "Raye?"

    "They're like your Earth measurements for, what is the word, half-hours? There are approximately 48 Rayes in a Pla'urn, or Planet-turn."

    "That's really cool!" Phil said.

    "Shh!" Jack was peeking around the corner into the hallway. "We don't know when they're coming after us. I'll keep lookout over here."

    Mark nodded in agreement. "I'll get started on the ship. Steve, can you come help me? Dan," he addressed the brown-haired Brit, pointing to a hall in the opposite corner (the room was roughly something like an uneven pentagon), "Can you keep an eye on that hallway? It's farthest, but since your abilities are stronger here, it'll help alert us."

   Dan nodded, "Got it."

"Phil, mind taking the middle?"

   He gave a cheesy salute, "Sir, yes sir!" Giggling as he went to his post.

   Dan rolled his eyes, though everyone could feel the _fond spork* friend_.

  Once everyone was in position, Mark and Steve got to work.

   It. . .was both harder and easier than he expected. After Steve explained the basics of what he knew (apparently he loved ships as a kid, the _Sehgweh_ being his favourite, though he never really grasped the workings too well), Mark was able to assess what needed to be fixed. It was mostly a dashboard malfunction that needed cross-wiring and recalibration. But Mark wasn't too familiar with this sort of tech - it was almost like figuring out terms in a foreign language. And while Mark was smart (despite his appearance of being a goof), this was a little bit beyond him.    

    They feel the wave of _flee_ from Dan at the same time that Phil and Seán shout, "They're here!"

    There's shouts and the generating of electric rods, coarse language like salt spilling out of the halls.

   "Okay! About done!" He finally shouts, hair falling to his face, drenched in sweat from nerves. He twists the exposed copper-gold wires a few more times, then gets out from under the dashboard. "Let's get out of here!"

    It's not done. Not completely. But it'll have to do.

    Dan runs, grabbing Phil and wrenching out of the way of a thrown rod. Luckily, guns aren't common among Billycons, but those rods are devestating on their own.

   Jack turns to run, energy coursing through him, blue eyes wide as the hangar's lights are turned on.

   Mark's pulling Dan aboard, while Steve helps Phil clamber on, and they're watching as Jack is almost there, passing the main panel of that sector, which is smack in the center of the room.

   Mark sees the sneering Billycon child; things move in almost slow motion as their eyes alight in gleeful hate, the little black object in their - (his, because this must be the 'Billum' they mentioned) - hand is squeezed between thumb and hand.

   A remote, it must be a remote-

   Seán is looking at the ship, and Mark watches as his neck muscles tighten, jaw clenching as he falls down, screaming, howling in pain, body spasming, jittering, as electricity courses throughout his body, through his _Boss Energy_ because it's so _highly conductive_ -

    There's something, almost like a ringing, as Seán falls to the floor. He's breathing shallowly, tight chest, and there's _too much_ energy inside of him, coursing through him.

    _Ow_. The shock collar could go **so** much higher than he thought.

    It's still going, though, and Seán gets used to the pain, sort of, until it's a dim buzzing that becomes his very being. 

    Like hell Jack'll let Billum get his grubby little fingers on him, though.

   So Seán pulls himself up with the control panel, heaving himself to his feet. His vision is blurry, his ears filled with cotton, but he can distantly see his friends in the ship's opening.

    He's going to make it.

    But first.

    Hands clamp down into the metal paneling, and he lets the energy, _go_.

   Combined with his _B.E_.'s conductiveness, and the electricity still coursing through him, the panel is awash in a glow of green lightning, like the energy curling around his hands, brighter than ever as his clenched hands are so pale. Jack can't stop himself from screaming, or from tasting metal, smelling blood, feeling hot and cold at the same time-

   The lights flicker over head, and the hangar doors begin to open as the Billycons shout.

   - but he can smile through a grimace, feeling satisfaction at the chaos.

    Mark is ready to run forward and drag Jack to their ship, but, surprisingly, Dan leaps out, landing with a stumble and correcting it, almost hyperventilating as he reaches Jack, just as the Bossotronio begins to slump over. Phil is out there, helping support him, and Steve ushers Mark to the controls.

    "Get ready for the lift-off sequence."

    Once everyone is aboard, and the door shut with a subtle hiss, Mark flips some switches, turns a dial, and grips a lever loosely, easing it.

   "Okay, so, I'm, like, 75% sure this won't explode on us. Just, uh, hang on, okay?"

   The ship boots to life, little plastic baubles lighting up as indicators. Steve stands next to the Captain's chair as Mark's eyes flicker, vaguely understanding the readings. Dan and Phil watch them from where they sit on the floor, a slumped over Jack laying between them.

    The ship hums.

    The thrusters roar.

    The boosters shout.

    And then, they're in space. The sun - _their_ Sun - small, and twinkling, though far bigger then any of the other stars winking amongst the void. They leave the Billycom ship behind, the hangar doors left open; leaving the agressive race to try and shut them, lest they become blown into space.

   After fifteen minutes, Mark sighs, posture slumping. "We did it," he breathes. "We really did it."

    Steve claps him on the shoulder. "That we did."

    He turns the chair to face the others, smiling in relief. Phil returns it, and he feels _relief exhilaration companionship lingering fear love friends_ from Dan.

   Even Jack, unconscious, seems more relaxed, less fearful, as they run out of range from the remote.

   They really would need to get that collar off of him.

   But first. . .

     Mark gives his friends a meaningful look. Steve even gives him a nod.

    "Next stop: Home."

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know, I'm sorry, I'm sorry. This took so long. I started it back on the ninth and then got all hesitant and anxious that I would "mess it up". I just needed to say screw it and stop worrying. Apologies about the delay.
> 
> *Spork is a word Dan calls Phil quite often, and while it has the same connotation as dork, it's fonder. So in this AU, although Dan's abilities are more emotional based, there's a certain 'feel' to the nickname, that they can distinguish.


	9. Heatwave (POST)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mark decided to visit some old and new friends in Los Angeles - and being the polite guy he is, he invited his roommate-friend-fellow aliens.
> 
> Unfortunately, he forgot to take into consideration how this would affect a certain Bossotronio.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I LIVE.
> 
> Sorry guys; meant to do this like two weeks ago. Started to write it in a notebook, which I haven't done in ages, so it may be a little wonky.
> 
> I don't live in L.A. but with how the weather is where I live, I'd imagine it's hell over there too. Seriously. It's a heatwave inside a heatwave, apparently.
> 
> I mean. 82F is usually comfortable for me, but more than 87F is a no-no.
> 
> Stay hydrated!

_Heatwave (POST)_

* * *

 

    " _Ugh. . ._ "

     Jack can't help but let out a groan, eyes shut tight and hand thrown across his face as he lays in the backseat. His skin prickles, heat crawling up his back and neck, shirt dryly rubbing his skin raw. What little he can perspire doesn't help at all, and his body merely defaults, skin breaking out in irritated red patches.

      _Ugh, why couldn't I be more human?_

    "You doing okay, Seán?"

     " _Too. . .hot. ._." he pants.

     Mark, driving the car, winces. It had been his idea to visit L.A., after all. He had some old friends from Cincinati who had moved there, and some new friends he wanted to meet. He had then had the brilliant idea to invite his roommates-slash-friends, who had all agreed.

     (Jack has been positively vibrating with excitement, and a touch nervousness, while Dan and Phil has debated without a single word. Ultimately, they too agreed.)

    Unfortunately, they only time they could all get work off at the same time was the last week and a half of July.

    And then further complexities led them to only obtaining two sets of tickets on differing flights. Which wasn't _too_ much of a problem - Dan and Phil were fine sticking together, and Mark and Jack were more than fine pairing up.

     So the plan was set - Mark and Jack would land first, taking a rental car, and then drive back the following morning to get the two Brits.

     But, of course, it couldn't be so simple.

    The heatwave, it would seem, had decided to strike; and in a stuffy city with tall structures that seemed to trap the heat in, like Los Angeles, it definitely affected their comfort.

    To top it off, it would seem that the AC in their car was blown - rolling down the windows did little but allow the tangible heat to settle in.

    Now, for Mark, it wasn't much of a problem. Sure, sweat was pooling out of him, so much so that his hair fell limply in his face. But it wasn't his first time in stifling, 120F degree weather.

    But for Jack, not only as an Irishman, but also as a Bossotronio who couldn't naturally regulate to the heat, the almost 49C was like some sort of hellish furnace.

    " _I wanna die,_ " he groaned aloud.

    "We'll be there soon," Mark said, worrying his lip and glancing at is friend through the rear-view mirror. While Jack could be dramatic at times, he knew that this wasn't the case.

    The heat had a texture to it - something vaguely like rough wool; enough to irritate, but not to scratch. It made them feel feverish, Jack even more so. Maybe even like standing in front of an oven freshly opened, but all around you, clinging, soaking into your flesh.

    It was uncomfortable. _Really_ uncomfortable.

     Mark was worried by time they made it to Wade's, since Jack's eyes were glassy, and movements heavy. He was worried about heatstroke, though Jack just waved him off. Bob managed to help him into the house, with Tyler, while Ethan (who Mark had yet to be acquainted with), asked worriedly if they needed anything.

    Mark went alone to pick up Dan and Phil the next day, while Seán recuperated, wondering how he would explain the twenty-hour nap to his non-alien friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I looked up Cellulose since I only know Farafafenheit.
> 
> Very short, I know - I'll definitely expound on this L.A. adventure, since I want to at least introduce Ethan.


	10. "All is fair in love and war. . .and plants" (non-specified)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Could be PRE- or POST-
> 
>  
> 
> I DID NOT FORGET OUR DISCUSSION WHERE THIS TITLE IS SUGGESTED, SO HERE IT IS.
> 
> Mostly just a dialogue-heavy practice piece. And my Hawthornia Aloe my cousin got me as a gift appears; I call it Murray. I hope I don't kill it.

_"All is fair in love and war. . .and plants"_

* * *

 

 

   ". . ."

    ". . .?"

    ". . .Phil."

    "Uh. . ."

    " _Phil_. What the hell."

    Dan rubbed his brow, sighing.

    The entire kitchen counter was covered with houseplants - well, not exactly covered, as there were only five colorful pots, containing four succulents and a single bonsai tree. But there was also two heavy pots of some sort of leafy plant in the living room, and a stripey aloe on the kitchen table, against the wall and under the window.

    "Phil, it was one thing when you bought Loki, but this? This is _too effing many_."

     "But Dan! C'mon! They'll liven the place up! I'm sure Mark and Jack will agree."

    The feeling he got from his best friend was a dry, _oh really_?

    "And who's gonna take care of them? 'Cause it sure as hell won't be me."

    A pout. "You're really going to let them die?"

    "Hey, you bought them, your responsibility."

    ". . .The Bonsai is for you, if it's any consolation."

    "I'm not gonna argue with you - either find them a new home, or deal with their deaths."

       In the end, Phil gave up the four additional succulents, though Dan _did_ take the Bonsai, with a bout of _smug fondness._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Uh, and I have a poll for you guys: https://www.strawpoll.me/16237696/r
> 
> Just wanted to do a little extra. Feel free to have people who don't read any of _Disassociation_ vote if you're wanting something to tip in your favor.
> 
> The link will also be in the next Turbulants!AU piece.


	11. dismal dreams

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry. I know this is a primarily fluffy series, but I can't just let Dan escape the trauma of _Dansel In Distress_ unscathed. Plus, friendship.
> 
> Here's a basic sketch layout of the apartment, by the way: https://www.deviantart.com/sirriusthemoonblade/art/AR-AU-apartment-layout-759256683 (Keep in mind that there's more furniture and such; this is just a basic idea of the apartment. I know it's not logical. F I T E m e.

_dismal dreams (POST)_

* * *

 

    Dan's night is like any other; they order pizza and play games, Mark's boisterous laughter filling the air, while Jack sqwuaks raucously, and Dan groans in exasperation. Normally, Phil's own cheerful input would be mingled amongst it, but his grandparents had been asking him to visit, and so he went.

    He would have left a month ago, honestly, but then there was the incident with the Vevmilons, then they all talked about their secrets, and Jack and Mark meeting Felix-

     It had been chaotic and messy for awhile.

    Finally, when there had been a calm week, Phil decided to go visit his grandparents (partially from Dan's urging. "Family is important." "But that's maybe why I should stay.")

    Dan could feel the _wary unsure okay? stay safe_ from Phil, and, honestly, he could understand his trepedition; Dan himself still felt _nervous_ , his sleep trouble increasing in the last month. Sometimes he felt like his voice was cut off by a muzzle again, claw-like fingers grabbing him-

   Phil came into his room the nights that his _fear_ strangled him in jumbled dreams of past-phobias and lingering-memory. The first two times he had nearly taken the door off of its hinges; the times after that were softer, calmer, with Phil shaking his shoulder to wake him up, and keeping his own emotions in check so that Dan could calm down. There were a few nights where Dan went to Phil, but his best friend had far less nightmares than he.

    And while the range of his emotional output wasn't far enough to disturb Mark or Jack's sleep, he was certain that they knew.

    But tonight, Phil was gone. He planned to be away for two weeks, and while normally this was a manageable challenge for Dan, especially since he had roommates for friends now, it was harder since he didn't flare to simple _discomfort loss_.

    It was _panic empty alone alone alone unsafe_ , clinging to him as he tried to sleep.

    Walls warping, dripping darkness in the confines of his mind as dismal dreams melded towards memory-induced nightmares; _sibilant speaking in hisses coupled with heavy, weighted hands grasping him and patting his hair, flickering moments of cold metal pressed against his neck, body thudding with rapid heartbeats and rushing blood-_

_He's crying, and choking on a salty ocean though he couldn't be breathing in the water through a mouth clamped shut, and all of a sudden the dark is pressing, tightly wrapping around him until he is numb and can ' t   f e e l   a n y t h i n g. . ._

     Hands are on his shoulders, shaking him from sleep; Dan's not sure why his first thought is a fleeting feeling of _surprise_ that he's not crying. He's breathing sharply though, mind too  _numb_ to truly output any emotions, though he does feel the blanketing warmth that he associates with Mark.

    It's _okay here safe okay okay? safe friend here?_ that he catches, vaguely hesitant as Mark focuses on projecting his emotions to him.

       Dan feels not only awareness trickle in, but his own emotions, _fear_ giving in to Mark's _calm okay here here friend safe here_.

    "Bad dream?" The half-Korean rumbles.

     "Uh, yeah," Dan turns away awkwardly. "It's- I'm fine though. Thanks."

     He knows Mark is frowning, feels _unconvinced_ from him, but Dan is plenty _embarrssed_ at the moment, so Mark drops it.

     They sit in the quiet for a bit.

    "How'd you know?" Dan eventually asks.

    "Decided to sleep in the living room tonight. Jack's doing one of his heavy-sleep things, and you wouldn't believe how much he snores. Felt. . . uh, felt your nightmare."

    While Dan doesn't chuckle at Mark's attempts to figure out terminology (and heck if Dan knows the proper terminology himself), he does smile. "Well, thanks, anyways."

    Mark's nodding, even though Dan can't see it in the dark. "No problem. You want to come watch some tv with me? I know I'm not up to going back to sleep."

    Dan wants to say no; feels like he may be inconveniencing him somehow. But he doesn't even get a chance to answer, body moving of its own accord to follow Mark out of the room.

    They stay up until six am, watching Japanese game shows and re-running cartoons, joking quietly. And while Mark doesn't bring up the incident, it's evident for the rest of the time that Phil's gone he's sleeping in the living room, ready to help Dan through another nightmare, or to stay up with him the rest of the night.

    And honestly, even as these incidents start to fade, Dan is quite thankful.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm thinking maybe Hard Times by Paramore as the theme for this AU (it was going to be 1901 by Phoenix, but that feels like it fits YouTubers in general.) Feel free to suggest songs though.
> 
> By the way, for the poll; if I do the PMV it'll probably be traditional art, since I'm better at drawing humans traditional than digital (though I may do a panel or two digital). Keep in mind I'm still wobbly when it comes to humans.
> 
> And for the Audio Recording; I suck at accents/voices. I can give it a try but no promises that it'll be any good on that front.


	12. Silence Part 3 (POST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm sorry I just add he best idea for this ajskanslsjsj.
> 
> Continuation of the Space Jail prompt series, but no prompt.
> 
> Just a snippet; not really a conclusion.

_Silence Part 3 (POST)_

* * *

 

 

   Quiet.

    No, not quiet.

    Absence.

    Muffled.

    _He hears laughter, a child's laughter, but it's ugly and distorted, nasally and thick. More like snickering? cackling? no, sniggering; vilely gleeful. And then there's **P a I n. . .**_

    "S e á n . . .?"

      _It's not a kid; it's a demon. A monster. It's laughing as it hurts him, eyes glinting maliciously. He won't answer, he can't answer, doesn't have the answers, and his body is humming with built-up energy while so far from home - it's cold and runs through him like power along circuitry, but then-_

_His neck is burning with fire, **too hot** , and he's sc r e a m i n g. . .!_

     "S eá n ?"

     "-old 'im -own-"

     "Go- it of'."

      "- asleep?"

     "-ack? Jack?"

    "He's - suppressing energy - too low; dangerous levels -"

    "- try - the Dismalen -"

    The voices filter through, faintly. Words jumbled and cut off. But through it all, in the dark where he rests and hides, he feels something warm and soft wash over him.

     It feels like:

          _Safe friends here safe okay okay care friendship fondness okay? friends good rest safe_

     And Jack feels himself relaxing, unsure if it's his body or mind doing so. He begins to fall out of his weird shut-down state and drift towards something resembling sleep, the last dredges of his consciousness catching on one last thing.

 _home_.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, if post _DanselID_ , Dan has nightmares, then post _SJSeries_ , Jack has issues with instinctually suppressing his energy which is worse for him in the long run.


	13. Baking Duo (Ambiguous/either)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Don't mind me I've just been rewatching Dan and Phil's baking videos 'cause I'm nervous about an interview Tommarrow and got inspiration so here's this I guess.
> 
> Soft chapter.

_Baking Duo (PRE)_

* * *

 

   One of Mark and Jack's favourite pastimes was watching their two British roommates bake.

   When it came to cooking, the only people who could work alone were Mark and Dan, and Jack was only allowed to cook with Mark, in order to prevent disaster.

   But baking? Baking was a whole other ballpark.

    Dan and Phil seemed to have a natural affinity for it, especially with working together. Even if the product somehow looked like scum from the bottom of the Thames, it tasted as good as the French Patisserie two miles from their appartment. Gordon Ramsey would cry while uttering swears because of the juxtaposition between sight and taste.

    But they didn't always look like messes. And while having some of the results was as good as any prize, the true entertainment lie in watching them bake.

* * *

   "No, no, no! _Phil! Put down that bag of marshmallows or so help me I will beat you with this whisk_!"

   Jack snickered and Mark had to hold back a laugh as the sugar-fiend guilty tried to slink away, backing himself into a corner.

    "Dan! Quick, the pots boiling over! It's a Bain Marie - we're not making pasta!"

     Both sat, eyes wide and hoping the melted chocolate wasn't ruined. They _would_ jump in, but that would break the spell, flustering their two roommates, and their whole "show" would be ruined.

   "Oh my gog we've ruined it - _we've ruined it_."

   "How?"

    ". . .We forgot the sticks dangit. How do we even - I freaking said it before we put them in the fridge!"

     They grumbled and complained, beginning another batch.

    " _Oh no! Dan_ , they're burning! Quick, get the oven mitt! The mitt!"

    "Oh gog they look like turds."

    In the end, the meringues tasted pretty good.

     "Okay so this page says, what, eighty grams of chocolate?" _Snap, clink, snap, clink, snap, clink -_ each broken piece of the bar dropped into the scale methodically. "That's. . .forty-three grams? Wha- _Phil_. Did you _seriously_ eat thirty-seven grams of chocolate that we were specifically saving for the cake pops?!""

    Sheepish grins and racous banter; messes and fights over licking the spatula and bowl; flour on the floor, sugar on shirts, batter in hair (well, only Phil's). It was _homey_ and _fond_ and _wonderful_.

    And while neither Jack, nor Mark, who watched these spectacles as outsiders of sorts, could figure out what made them so special, they gladly treasured it.

   Even if the neighbors complained about the noise.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Jack because he's probably a fine cook but in this fic he sure ain't. And Phil can rarely be trusted alone.
> 
> I highly recommend D&P's baking videos because they're freaking gold. Like, I don't celebrate any holidays so I don't care for that part of it, but overall they're hilarious.


	14. Spectrum (POST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Was originally going to write them meeting Felix but I'm just gonna keep referencing him, lol.
> 
> Blood warning if you're squeamish. Nothing drastic. If anything this is really tame.
> 
> So this takes place sometime after the Space Jail installment, scanner thing was originally going to be in the SJ installement too.
> 
> Phil centric because I don't write him enough.
> 
> Little OOC?
> 
> (Also sorry but I'm laughing 'cause I'm working on a secret Turbulant!AU writing. Just want to know, when it's ready - do you want a gift, or suffering? Question Doesn't have to do with the content.)

_Spectrum (POST)_

* * *

 

    Phil was the one at home when Mark and Jack came back, looking a mixture of guilty and befuddled. They took off their raincoats and shook off their umbrellas, the downpour becoming muffled as they closed the door.

    "Something up?" He asked.

     "No, no; everything's good," Mark's voice was strained, and he coughed.

     Phil raised an eyebrow, but didn't push. He _was_ incredibly curious, but he knew that Jack was sure to tell him if Mark took too long.

    After all, the Irishman wasn't one to keep secrets.

    Phil went back to playing his dragon game on his phone, while Jack went to take a shower, and Mark went to get started on dinner. Phil barely even thought about his game, playing on muscle memory alone, as his mind tried to puzzle out what could possibly make Jack and Mark act this way.

    _Felix_ , his mind supplied.

    He paused his game. ' _Oh yeah, didn't Mark mention that he and Jack were meeting up with Felix after work? He wanted to show them something_.'

    Phil and Dan had met the Swede a few times; apparently he had been eager to meet them, icy blue eyes analyzing them each time. It turned out that Felix himself was one of the very few pureblooded aliens that could be found on Earth - the language of the original species closer to Swedish than anything else, hence why his ancestors had travelled there after crash-landing.

    Their name translates to something vaguely like 'Informant' in English; an apt name, as they're great at analyzing and recognizing any species in the galaxy. They can also figure out your relatives based on look and scent alone. Supposedly, away from Earth, they can even send telepathic messages by tapping into a radio or broadcasting system. But Felix had never been able to confirm it.

    Honestly, he was a nice guy all around, calling them 'bros' and cursing almost more than Jack. He seemed normal.

     There was just. . .this puzzlement in his eyes, whenever he saw Phil. Like he couldn't place him.

    Honestly, Phil's alien heratige, or possible lack there-of never bothered him in the slightest. But he couldn't help the jarring unsettledness he got from such moments.

    Like he didn't belong.

    " _Ow! Son of a-_ "

    Phil leapt off the couch to get the first aid kit, earlier queries falling away. Even though Mark was a great chef, he had a terrible streak getting himself injured, _especially_ with hot oil.

* * *

 

    Phil smiled when Dan came home, face lighting as he smelt marinara sauce.

    "Mark cook?"

    "Mark cooked."

    "Of effing course he cooked," Jack grumbled, rubbing his freshly-showered hair vigorously with a towel. "Otherwise it'd smell like burnt turd in 'ere."

    Mark laughed. "Oh shut it; you're just jealous that I'm a better cook than you," he said with faux-arrogance, hands on his hips.

    "Calm the eff down, Sassy McGee."

    "Make me."

    "Ughh, ye're such a _child_."

    Phil snuck past the two, tilting his head for Dan to the follow. They managed to fill their plates to the brim, and each grab a hunk of garlic bread before Mark noticed them sneaking back.

    "Wha- _hey!_ You guys are supposed to wait to be served! Did you guys get a double portion - _get back here!_ "

    The two Brits held back laughter as they dodged their American friend, Jack taking the opportunity to calmly serve himself.

    "Calm yet tits, Mark; just get some food already."

    Mark eventually did so, grumbling the whole time.

   Dinner passed by fairly calmly, though Phil's earlier frantic curiousity raged halfway through. It must have thrown Dan off, because he nearly choked as he bit too heftily into his garlic bread. A ringing of _what what what?_ bounced back to Phil, with the same tenacity of baby chicks peeping. Luckily, Dan was pretty good at keeping his own emotions flowing towards Phil, so Mark and Jack were unaware of it.

     Phil sent a dismissive sense towards him, followed by _later curious don't worry_.

    By time they finished dinner and cleaned it up, Mark and Jack were sending glances to one another again. Even Dan noticed.

    "The hell is up with you two?"

     "Let's sit at the table," Mark suggested.

    They sat, and Phil couldn't help but jiggle his leg up and down. Dan drummed his fingers on the table top in a bout of nervousness.

   "So, we went to see Felix today." Mark began.

    "Told him 'bout the. . .Billycon ship," Jack added.

     "Oh."

     "Yeah, oh," Mark said. "So we were wondering if Felix knew how they could have figured out our species, since we didn't see any informants among them. He said he had something to show us, and gave us this," he pulls out something that looks like a frequency detector, except with a light strip fitted above some sort of thin slot. There's no monitor or interface on it - just a single button on one side.

    "What the hell is that?" Dan excaliams, reaching for it with _curiosity fascination_.

     Mark lets him look at it. "Don't push the button. It's what the Billycons call a _Spektrūm_."

    "Or, as Felix calls it, a 'Hemo-frequency Spectrometer'," Jack chips in. "The HfS fer short."

    "Hemo. . .so, it registers blood?" Phil asks tentatively. Dan immediately drops it.

     "Ick! No, nope; I'm out. Goodbye, have fun, see you in the morning," Dan scoots his chair back with a loud _screee_ and gets up to leave.

     Phil latches one hand onto Dan's sleeve. "Dan, sit back down." His friend does so reluctantly, alarming feelings of _no no don't like mild danger bad idea unsettling no_ bouncing between the two of them.

    Mark flinches and Jack grimaces. "I know you guys don't like this, and I'm not saying we have to test it. Just. Keep in mind that this is probably what the Billycons used on use while we were knocked out."

    "I'm gonna test it," Jack said, though it wasn't as bold as he would have liked. His accent a little thicker as he became more nervous. "Better to know than be left in the dahrk."

   "I'm going to do it too," Mark stated. "Not like I haven't been through worse."

     Phil was biting his lip; he _really_ didn't like this idea, at all. But. . .

      He couldn't say he wasn't curious at all, now could he.

     "I'll do it if Dan does it first," he finally said, ignoring Dan's sharp spike of _indignation_. Dan did tilt his head in consent though. Mark merely nodded and Jack relaxed.

    "Okay, so I'll go first, then Jack, Dan, and finally Phil." He took the HfS, tilting it. Then he lined it up on his hand right above the thumb's carpal bone. "Felix said to just press the button and release it, holding it there; it has some sort of self-sterilization inside." 

    There was a click like a stapler and a razor blade shot out, causing a shallow but long cut into his skin. As it began to bleed, the little light came on (none of them could pinpoint what color exactly that the light was), illuminating that portion of Mark's hand.

    The light made the blood glow, like paint under a UV light, and it was a brighter, pink lemonade color. You could still see the base red, but whatever the light was it brought Mark's Warfian energy to the visible spectrum.

    After fifteen seconds it gave a beep, and Mark felt the light grow warm. The cut instantly began to clot and close up. And then it shut off.

    They were all silent for a moment, and then Phil got up to get the first aid kit from the kitchen.

   "So," Mark said, using an alcohol wipe to clean up the drying blood on his hand. "I guess  it works?"

    "That's fascinating," Jack said, turning the HfS and peering at it through his glasses, looking like a scientist. "It must pick up our energy signatures in our blood."

    Jack went next, with minimal trepedition; unlike Mark, who had been fairly stoic, Jack gave a flinch as it cut him. But his eyes grew wide as the light made his blood glow with a layer of bright, Bossotronian green.

    When it was Dan's turn, he was obviously nervous, uttering a simple, " _ **Eff**_!" Phil could feel his _discomfort_ , and shared it.

    Dan's blood was the oddest, and prettiest; a rich, dark color that was almost indigo. They didn't understand why Dan's wasn't a brightly glowing energy (Felix would eventually explain about Agressive and Passive Energy).

   Phil didn't stop himself from commenting, "It's like the universe."

    Dan gave him a weird look; emotions fuzzy. Phil just shrugged. "It _is_ \- it's like the dark patches of space around the stars."

    Dan just shook his head fondly, handing the device. "You're such a dork."

    Phil took it, though he hesitated. He was nervous, he realized. What if nothing happened?

    "Well don't take all day," Jack eventually snorted, goading him.

    Phil took a breath, stilling his nerves. And then he pressed the button.

    He flinched; it was a quick pain, like banging into a sharp dresser edge, but thinner, and the whine of it rang through him. Dan sent him _reassurance okay?_ and he muttered aloud, "I'm good; 'm fine."

   When the light came on, it took them a minute to see the change; his blood was still red but appeared a darker, richer color under the light. Almost unnoticeable.

    If it was indicating of any alien blood, it certainly wasn't a species they knew of.

    "Are you kidding me?! Effing hell!" Dan wheezed.

    "Well I guess you're still a mystery," Mark laughed. "Either you're human with some sort of energy, an alien with similar blood color, or a hybrid with very little alien blood."

    "What the eff?" Was Jack's contribution.

    Phil felt himself smiling, warmth blossoming in his chest.

   He wouldn't lie - he had been vaguely worried. Because Dan was his best friend and they'd always been together, but now they lived with other people. People in a similar situation to Dan. And with Phil being in the dark. . .

    It was hard not to feel like an outsider.

    Dan must have picked up on this because he shot him a humor-filled smile, nudging him as they all got drawn into rowdy conversation.

    In the end, it didn't matter if Phil was fully human or not. He was one of them.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah; also offhand comment but I broke my glasses (the bridge cracked) so I had to duct tape them. (I can still use them it's just irritating.) Now, the thing is, I have really bad eyesight. Like, horrendous. My prescription is -9, -9.5 if you know what those mean. But it's bad.
> 
> (Don't worry I can get a new pair, plus my astigmatism changed so insurance is covering it. It'll just be a bit. Writing may be wonky due to irritation.)


	15. Trouble (POST?)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Lol I’m not dead. I’ll evrntually get to the two chapters I mentioned in _Waste Basket_ , but for now, have a Drabble I’m gonna BS as I go along.
> 
> EDIT: I dunno it’s out of context and a weird chapter but eh, gotta pick up the pace somehow.

      “How even. . .”

      Mark pinched the bridge of his nose, letting out an irritated sigh.

    It had been a fine day. No really, it _had_ \- there weren’t too many problems or complications at work, and he had been able to meet up with Dan on his lunch break. On top of that, that girl he had met a few weeks ago, Amy, had decided to text him back - mostly in dog pictures, much to Mark’s absolute delight.

    But the moment Mark has opened the door; no, the moment he had set foot on the cold, stone stairs to make the long walk up, he had felt something akin to trepidation skitter around his shoulders.

    Sure enough, when he had opened the door, he had been met with the most ridiculous sight he had seen in almost a month.

    “ _Just pull it out already!”_

_“I’m tryin’! What did he think I’ve been doin’ the last minute?!”_

_“Ow! Ow ow ow! Stop! Stop!”_

_“Fer effs sake! Make up your mind_!”

     -And this, leads us back to the present situation at hand.

     Both men were absolutely slathered in icing, and powdered with both sugar and flour. Jack was stretching as high as he could, while Phil stooped low, in an attempt to dislodge the hand-crank egg-beaters from Phil’s hair.

     It looked like the shiny, raven-black locks were pretty well tangled in there, too.

    _And it had been such a nice day_ , Mark thought, resigned.

    But it would have been unrealistic to expect everything was fine when he got home, wasn’t it?

    Just another day for them all, though, he supposed.


	16. Odd day (POST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Decided to do something sillier and light hearted for this concept to get back into the swing of things.
> 
> Plus, I got inspiration.

     Jack and Dan were arguing in the kitchen when the doorbell rang out of the blue.

    Phil, who had been immersed in _Food_ _Fantasy_ on his phone, glanced around the apartment when it rang a second time. It seemed like Mark had gone to lecture Jack and Dan on their cooking argument, and had begun to wrestle with Jack, which in turn meant they ended up pulling Dan to the floor with them.

_“Guys knock it off! Lemme go!”_

_“-Ah fer effs sake, Mark!”_

_“-idiots-“_

    “I’ll get it!” Phil shouted. He rolled his eyes as it went unnoticed.

    He wasn’t really upset, of course, no matter how much he hated answering the door.

    Phil didn’t recall ordering anything online recently; it was probably the postman with something for one of the others.

    With a cheery hum, he opened the door. 

    He found himself blinking in confusion.

     “Uh, hello? What can I do for you?”

    It wasn’t the postman, that was for sure; and he was quite certain that it wasn’t a postwoman, either.

     She was probably in her mid-to-late-twenties; maybe 160 cm*, with bright, bright green eyes, and the palest blonde hair Phil had ever seen. It was almost white, just barely tinged gold, with soft, indigo dyed ends.

    Had they ever met before?

    He hadn’t realized he had said that aloud until she sputtered, “Er, ah, noh, we’ve noht. Eh just saw youh recently at the bezaar.”

    It took Phil a minute to process her accent (which, despite having come across quite a few in his life, he found he couldn’t place). It eventually clicked that she was referring to the flea market yesterday.

     “Oh! The flea market! Sorry I didn’t see you?” He scratched his head.

    Wow, this was awkward.

    Why was it so awkward?

     Phil looked up from the ground when he heard a throat clear, and realized that the girl had a companion. A man easily near Phil’s own height, with dark brown hair and a bristling moustache. His accent wasn’t nearly as thick and much more like a southerner*.

    “Apologies for any confusion. Lady Evanzera came by with a gift for your consideration.”

    “O. . .kay?”

    Phil was beyond confused as to what the heck was going on, but he was quick to grab what Evanzera shoved into his hands. Luckily, despite his clumsy tendencies and her rushed manner, he didn’t drop it. She looked away from him as he examined it.

    It was the porcelain pig from the market.

    He had seen it in a stall, a good size but small enough to fit in his hand. He thought it was simultaneously cute _and_ funny, with how it glanced over it’s shoulder and past a jutting rear-end. Dan had even found it hilarious.

    But it was the end of the month, so Phil didn’t have much money, and to top it off, it wasn’t a piggy bank like he had hoped, so he had left it.

    Even if he _did_ glance morosely at it more than once before they left.

    But this girl - this stranger - has apparently seen him do so, and had bought it for him.

   He felt somewhat mortified, and somewhat appreciative.

   “Awww, I mean, thank you, but you really didn’t have to.”

    “So you approve?” The man - Phil decided to refer to him as Jeeves in his head - asked. “Lady Evanzera has been searching for a suitable suitor since the Xroxas Galaxy, and we have been unable to find one that caught her eye until we happened upon you.”

    Phil’s brain was doing overdrive, noting that something was off in the sentence, but he couldn’t quite pick up what.

    Not until he was shot with such a poignant _amused_ from Dan.

    “Wait wait wait - _suitor_?!” He practically squeaked. “I mean, uh, that’s- but I’m not-“

    “Youh doh not like the gehft?” Evanzera asked. And Phil finally realized that it was a _forlorn_ question, and that she had been acting _shy_ this whole time.

   “Oh no no! It’s great! I love it! I- I mean I really, really appreciate it!” He was bumbling his words, flustered, and gently trying to hand the porcelain pig back. “It’s just-“ he ran his fingers through his hair. “I’m not . . .realky looking for a relationship right now. For a. . .suitortress?” He scrunched his brow. “At the moment.”

   “Ah-“ Her eyes lit up. “Eh see. Eht ehs- Eh am noht ohffended.” She looked at her feet, then back up, firmly placing the pig in his hand. “Eh want youh toh keep eht, please. After ouhr mehsunderstanding.”

    “I-“ Phil swallowed, thoroughly embarrassed. “Thanks.”

    Evanzera smiles brightly, and Jeeves gave a slight nod. 

   They left without further a word.

    “Well. . .that happened,” Phil muttered to himself, turning the porcelain pig around this way and that to examin it.

    He found himself flushing as Dan snickered. “ _I’ll_ say.”

    “ _Don’t_ _you_ _dare_.”

     “So when’s the wedding?”

     “ _Jack_.”

     “Ah, c’mon guys.” Mark said placatingly. “Leave him alone.”

   Phil started to relax.

   “I mean, he needs to have a first date first.”

    “ _That’s_ _it_!”

     Anyone passing by could hear the laughter and shrieks of rage as Phil chased them around the apartment.

    

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *One hundred sixty Centimeters (160)=about five foot three (5’3”)
> 
> *Southerner= by this I mean someone from the Southern area of English.


	17. Tides part 1 (POST)

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Standing on the shore, with the sun falling past the ocean, it’s nice to know that there’s companions closer to home than the faint-appearing stars.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So sorry for the wait guys, but I hope it was worth it!!! (And sorry for the false post - hit a wrong button when I was only a little bit in ,:D.)
> 
> Hope everyone is doing okay or that things get better for them!!!
> 
> Listened to Anemone by Slenderbodies a lot while writing this chapter.
> 
> Oh! And by the way, what we call “LA” out here is actually _huge_. So the please they go to visit us just fictionalizrd areas based off of what I’m more familiar with. I can’t even say I’ve been to the really nice parts of LA where I’m sure YouTubers probably live XD.

     “So, what you’re telling me - in all seriousness - is that he just- just takes straight up _twenty hour naps_ sometimes?” Bob asked in clear disbelief and exasperation, while pinching the bridge of his nose.

    Wade seemed skeptical too. “Yeah, I mean, I dunno guys - are you sure that’s okay? Seems like a lot.”

    Phil nodded. “He tends to stay up late - it’s just a crash. It’s like, once in awhile is all.”

    “Look.” Bob and Wade focused on Mark; his soft, ‘listen to me I promise everything will be okay’ voice catching their attention. “I promise, it’s normal. It’s like my alcohol allergy, a little weird but doesn’t affect my life too much, right? I promise, it’s fine.”

    And the two men couldn’t find it in themselves to argue with their friend when he was just so earnest.

     “Anyways, we’re waiting for a few others, right?” Dan asked, shuffling his feet a little.

    Wade didn’t know why he felt so awkward all of a sudden - he was usually fine with other people. He glanced at the brunet Brit. Maybe empathy or something?

    “Yeah, Tyler, my old wrestling buddy from High School,” Mark said with a fond grin stretching across his face. “And his work buddy, uh,” he glanced at Bob, “Ethan?”

     “Yeah,” his old roommate confirmed. “Ethan’s an editor for the franchise that Tyler manages. They’re a small company but those two get along really well and I guess became friends. It’ll be cool to hang out with them again.”

    “Actually,” Wade cut in, looking at his phone, “Molly just texted me - I guess we had dinner plans I forgot about.”

    “Ah no prob dude.” Mark clasped him on the shoulder. “We still have over a week to all hang. Say Hi to Molly for me, okay?”

    Wade smiled. “Sure thing.”

   As Wade was gathering his stuff to leave (he misplaced his keys), Jack happened to shuffle in, bleary eyed. “Wot time is et?” 

    Phil bit back an amused laugh, and Dan didn’t bother to hide back his snort; Jack’s accent always thickened after a long sleep, and with his messy hair and tired eyes, well. . .

     It was adorable, to say the least.

    Mark just grinned at him. “It’s almost two in the afternoon, you crazy potato. Wade’s on his way out, but Tyler and Ethan should be here soon.”

    Jack seemed to vaguely process the words, dismissing the time. But he did perk up and put out a hand when he saw Wade. “Ah, sorry ta hear that I missed th’ fun! It’s nice ta meet ya though.”

   “Likewise,” Wade said with a blooming smile.

* * *

 

    By time that Wade had made it to Molly, Tyler and Ethan had shown up.

   Mark gave him a warm greeting; the younger man shaking his hand just as friendly, and introducing himself to the other three as Tyler warmly embraced his old friend.

   It was Bob who eventually shuffled them out the door - having to physically pull Tyler and Mark apart when they started grappling one another playfully, and Jack had been sucked into the tussle. They got into seperate cars and drove through the fast-paced yet clogged LA traffic, eventually meeting in an area with a plethora of shops and eateries.

    After parking and paying the meter, they decided to walk along until they found a suitable place to eat.

    It was pretty obvious that Mark and Tyler were fast friends; while he had initially come off as something bordering stoic, it was obvious that Tyler was just as fun and jovial as Mark - even if it wasn’t expressed quite as boisterously.

    And Ethan, he was obviously more hyper when contrasted with Tyler - Mark quickly enfolded him into a trio of chatting and joking. Dan would almost say he had adopted the younger man.

    So while Tyler was barely breathing with silent, mirthful laughter, and Mark and Ethan bounced humor between themselves, Jack quickly got to know Bob, chatting quite amociably with him.

   Dan was content just to have fun with Phil, while they both assessed the situation and let themselves naturally fall in with the others. There was something warm bouncing between all of them, and Dan found himself feeling really awake and content, despite the nerves from social anxiety.

    Luckily, for him, he could let his alien energy just do it’s thing, unlike Jack and Mark who were pretty much just confined to the apartment. And the only time someone outside of their group had slipped up, was when Wilford answered the door one day and snatched a package from a startled postwoman.

    They didn’t let him live that one down for _weeks_.

    Phil nudged him, and Dan felt a trill of _hey hey hey_ ; when Dan looked at his friend, brow furrowed, Phil merely tilted his head.

    He caught Ethan, who had been gazing back at them with intense curiosity. No one else seemed to notice, though he looked away, his face red at being caught.

    Dan looked at Phil and shrugged. _No worry fine unconcerned it’s okay_ bouncing off of him. They _were_ keeping to themselves, kinda, so he wasn’t surprised that Ethan might be curious about them.

    Phil opened and closed his mouth, saying without speaking that he _agreed_ _but nevermind_.

    Dan nudged him a little roughly, now curious and pinging _what what what?_

    But Phil pursed his lips, and shrugged. There was no feeling that Dan could pick up that translated properly, but he knew Phil well enough that he would talk more later.

    “Are you two done,” they could practically _hear_ the smirk in Mark’s voice, and, yep, looking at him his face was entrapped with a grin.

    Whatever jibe he had planned was ruined, as Jack quipped, “Awww, Mahrk. You _know_ these two eat everythin’ in sight. We coulda had a peaceful meal fer once.”

    Phil snorted, though it was Dan who spoke. “Peaceful? With you?” 

    This led to an indignant squabble, Mark shooting an amused look to Ethan and Tyler.

    “This is what you live with?” Tyler asked, incredulous.

    Mark shrugged in a ‘what can you do’ fashion.

    They eventually did make it in, and ordered. It took some time to figure things out, considering everyone’s dietary needs. (Ethan was apparently allergic to peanuts - like, really bad - and then there was Phil’s lactose intolerance to take into account, plus they all chose not to order anything alcoholic to drink since Mark couldn’t have it, even though he said it was fine and he wouldn’t be offended in the least.)

    Everything went together really well; they all joked and told stories, weaving together conversation seemlessly. Phil pulled Dan into the conversations, which led to the Brits’ infamous banter.

    After they were finished, and had all payed, they decided to take the car down to the beach for a bit. It was a bit of a treat to the three Europeans, who were used to the colder Atlantic coast.

    “You guys are gonna love it, I promise,” Mark said assuredly.

   “Won’t the water be hot?” Phil asked as they walked along the sidewalk, looking for _any_ space to walk out onto the sand.

    Ethan and Tyler started laughing, and Bob struggled to hold back as well. Mark just grinned, shaking his head fondly.

    “It’s still the ocean, you guys: awful, dark, and cold. Maybe a tad warmer than what you’re used to, but that’s it.”

    “Not fond of water, I take it?” Ethan asked.

    Tyler snorted. “Mark’s been afraid of the ocean for as long as I’ve known him.”

    Mark shot Tyler something that bordered on a glare, pressing his lips into a firm line before answering, “Yeah, I’m effing terrified of it; deep water, grasping and dragging you down into the unknown? All of collective human knowledge barely knows what all is in there - Space is so much better.”

    They found an opening and made their way out onto the sand.

    “But isn’t Space unknown too?”

    “No, it’s mostly known, and most of it is empty.” Mark stated it matter-of-factly, though it didn’t take Dan’s Dismalen abilities for the roommates to feel the current of excited energy at the mention of _Space_.

     And, lucky for Mark, Ethan indulged him.

    “So you know a lot about Space?” Ethan asked.

    To say Mark became starry-eyed would be an appropriate statement. He immediately launched into excited chatter about Stars and matter, the solar system and other celestial bodies. It kept Ethan entrapped, and Tyler smiling the whole time.

    Dan was laughing quietly into his sleeve, and Bob took the opportunity to talk to him, leaving Jack walking behind the others contentedly.

   Phil, seeing that Jack was alone, went up to him. “Hey, you doing okay?”

    “Hmm?” Jack looked over to him, confused; then, understanding dawned on his features. “Oh! Yeah, I’m good. It’s ‘ot but not stuffy. There’s fresh aer, an’ the cool sea breeze. I’m fine.” He sent him a reassuring grin.

    Phil relaxed. Seàn did seem to be getting red, but he didn’t seem overheated, so he figured it was probably just because he couldn’t really sweat properly. “If you’re sure.” He saw that the others had pulled quite a bit ahead. “Hey, I’ll race you to the water! _Onetwothreego_!”

    He took off, Jack letting out a curse. “Cheater!”

    The rest of their group laughed as the two sped past them, Jack catching up quickly and the two of them almost keeping pace, Phil maybe two steps behind. 

    And amongst the other beach-goers, they all stood out yet blended in, joyful laughter loudly rivaling the sqwuaking seagulls wheeling into the air.

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just so you know, Ethan’s species is more based off his blue hair aesthetic and playful(?) nature than anything, since I can’t say I grasp his personality too well or watch a lot of his stuff. He definitely seems like a lot of fun though!!!
> 
> It’ll appear more in the second part since this was getting too long ,:D.


	18. Tides Part 2 (POST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Whoo! Finally glad to share this. If you guys want some exclusive chapters of just Ethan and Tyler later on, feel free to let me know!
> 
> EDIT: sorry this chapters a little flat in areas, but I hope overall it came out okay!!

 

 They were already a few days into their trip.

    They’d been sleeping at Bob’s place for the most part, until eventually Ethan suggested they stay at his place with Tyler (they were roommates) since Bob worked from home and they didn’t want to interfere too much. They readily took it, and it wasn’t too far of a drive to Ethan and Tyler’s humble apartment.

    They did manage to snag Wade the next day, and they got to visit some of the smaller areas, like Little Tokyo, and visit varying restaurants. It was pleasant and exciting, especially for the three Europeans.

    Of course, it was hard at times. Mark and Jack had to hide their abilities, and Dan had had a nightmare one night, thick and stifling that had awoken everyone in time to hear his strangled yelp. Ethan and Tyler didn’t question or seem to remember feeling Dan’s nightmare, at least, and they all managed to get back to bed relatively easily.

    (Of course, Mark stayed up with Dan into the early morning hours in case he wanted to talk. Phil had been supportive and stayed nearby. And Jack had shared an emphathetic look, understanding all too well the traumatic nightmares they both carried heavier than the others.)

     But, maybe they hadn’t forgotten or dismissed them entirely, because Ethan had insisted they all go to a nice breakfast restaurant the next morning, and Tyler insisted on paying.

    And if anything, Ethan’s gawking at Dan had _increased_.

    “I wonder why,” Phil would mutter lowly to his best friend.

    Dan just shrugged; he didn’t feel any ill will or intent. Just. . .intense curiousity. “I mean, I’m quiet and keep to myself; on top of my . . .episode the other night,” he murmurs the word low and embarrassed, “who wouldn’t be?”

    They didn’t have to wait long, fortunately.

    They’ve been in Los Angeles a week now, and it’s an overcast day. The heatwave had broken, thankfully, their third day in (“thank gawd,” Jack had muttered), and with that people had dispelled and the beaches weren’t quite as crowded.

     It was somewhat suspicious when Tyler had enthusiastically suggested a trip to the beach, since, “no one will be there anyways with this weather.”

     (Tyler and Ethan had been conferring in low tones the last few days, trailing off when any of them came near, so they weren’t as caught off guard by this suggestion.)

     Mark had shrugged. “Sure, why not?”

    It was completely different; chilly and clammy, almost foreboding  with everything cast in low colors and tones. But Phil seemed eager enough, shoving Dan and then running through a flock of seagulls as his best friend chased him.

     Mark rolled his eyes, muttering, “Children.”

    Jack leaned an elbow on his shoulder, grinning widely. “Aw, c’mon Mahrk! Don’t tell me he don’t wanna go run around too.”

    Mark sniffed, standing taller and pretending to be dignified. “Why I would never! I’m a well-behaved adult.”

    It was a game that was common amongst them, and Jack fell into it perfectly. “Are ye sure?”

    “Absolutely.”

    “Then what about that time with the oranges?”

    He whipped around, eyes wide. “You wouldn’t.”

     Jack had begun to back away, but his grin had changed now. It was controlled yet a tad chaotic. “Ye know _exactly_ what I’m tahlking about. I mean, I know it was an April fool’s prank and all-“

    “Jack. . .” There was a hard edge; a warning growl. Dark eyes narrowing furiously.

     “But it was _such a shame_ that when it backfired, an’ ya tried to blame - _aak_!”

    He took off running, sand spraying out behind him as Mark lunged forwards, making a show of being angrier than he actually was. Tyler pulled out his phone while Ethan ran after them, laughing.

    “What! Guys! I wanna know the story!!”

    Tyler made sure to catch it all on video. Nothing like some recorded memories to look back on fondly.

    Plus, who wouldn’t want to relive when Phil tripped, Dan smacking into him and leaving them both sprawled out and spitting sand, conveniently stumbling Mark, as Jack managed to jump over them?

     Ethan was probably the least worse-for-ware, too, and all their raucous cries and curses and laughter were a delightful sound.

     After about fifteen minutes of well-done tomfoolery, they all sat down on the sand, panting and looking out seawards. It was content. Happy.

     Ethan and Tyler shared a look. It was now or never.

    Tyler cleated his throat. “So, Guys? We. . .did actually want to talk to you about something.”

    “I knew it,” Phil muttered, trying to ruffle sand out of his hair. Dan sputtered, sharp _indignation_ spiking from him as all that sand just happened to hit him.

    “It’s not a big deal,” Ethan blurted our, hands waving frantically. “I mean, it’s important, but, uh. . .”

     Mark watched Tyler; stoic as he could seem, Mark had a good handle on reading him. He seemed. . .fairly relaxed. Curious, maybe a tad anxious.

     Mark let himself feel _it’s fine no worries_ , directing it mostly at Dan while shooting the others a reassuring look.

    They seemed to accept it with varying degrees of ease, Jack taking the reins to nod at the two Americans. “Sure. We’re all friends now. We don’t have any problem hearin’ what you have ya say.”

    Ethan seemed to brighten up. Then grew awkward. “Well, I have a question first. Uh, Dan. . .are you a Dismalen?”

    Suddenly they all felt a sharp feeling, like their stomach dropping. Dan’s expression was stricken. “How the eff did you-“

    Ethan and Tyler winced, the latter putting a hand on his stomach. “Mostly? That.”

    “We’re not planning on telling anyone,” Ethan quickly assured. “I just-“

   “How do you even know what a Dismalen is?” Phil’s question was calm, innocently curious. But even without Dan’s Dismalen abilities, Jack and Mark could see his hands tighten, and how protective he was.

    “Yeah, how’d you-?”

    “Because I’m an alien too!” He finally blurred out. 

    They fell silent, watching Ethan with a mix of surprise and intruige.

   “Look,” he sighed, fixing his glasses. “Tyler and I noticed how you all interact with Dan - it’s, like, weirdly intuitive. And with that nightmare the other night- it wasn’t hard to put two and two together.”

    “We didn’t want to just confront you in the apartment,” Tyler added. “We didn’t want to keep secrets, but we didn’t want to stress you even more, either. So we just waited for the right time.”

    There was a pause. The clammy breeze stirred the sand around them, and a pelican dove into the ocean.

     “So. . .what species are you?” Jack eventually asked.

    “I’m. . .they were originally called Eptones. It’s a neighbor planet to Dismal,” he breathed out slowly, “but they changed heir name to Kræhncs about seven hundred years ago. My great-grandmother and her family came to Earth for a change of pace.”

    “Why the name change?” The inquisitive astronomer in Mark couldn’t help but ask. Anything related to Space - Aliens included - piqued his interest.

    Ethan shrugged, and looked to Tyler, who unhelpfully shrugged back. “Something about a King, right?”

    Ethan squinted, trying hard to remember. “Yeah. There was some King. A ship had sank in his harbor, and wanting to get his family heirloom out of it, he demanded lowly villagers to be sent down. Because, y’know, better the villagers drown than his guard. They used some sort of crank-chain-wheel thing. The group they sent down somehow survived. They - uh, we I guess,” he seemed a little self-conscious admitting it out loud, “can like, breathe underwater? Sorta? So they decided to change their names after that.”

    “Really?! That’s so cool!” Both Jack and Phil said in tandem, eyes shining.

    “I mean, it’s kinda gross,” Tyler couldn’t help but quip, “he grows some sort of moss in his throat, and then coughs all that gunk back up when he’s done with it.”

     Ethan shot him an extremely offended, incredulous look. “You effing jerk.” He seemed ready to bowl him over, right there in the sand.

    They both looked to Mark, who had cleared his throat sort of exaggeratedly. He seemed sheepish, but trustful, as he said, “Well, since you were honest with us, it’s only fair if we return the favor. I’m partially something called a Warfian.”

     “And I’m a Bossotronian.” Jack flashed them a smile.

    “Wait, wait, wait; what?! Are you saying you’re all aliens too?” Ethan looked to Phil with wide eyes. Phil merely shrugged.

    “And you never told me?” Tyler seemed, well, hurt.

    “To be honest, I didn’t find out until a few years ago,” Mark confessed, “I wasn’t sure how to bring it up.” Tyler seems to accept that, shoulders relaxing.

    “And what about you?” Dan shoots the question to Tyler.

    “Undoubtably human,” he replies.

     “So, we have five - maybe six aliens here - and they all happen to have roommates who are human?” Ethan chuckles. “Sounds like a bad set-up to a joke.”

     “You effing know it,” Jack mutters.

     The dramatic moment seems to pass with out much fanfare. They seem to sit quietly with their thoughts for a moment. It’s. . .not awkward, not exactly. More tentative than anything.

    “So. . . wanna meet Sam?”

     “Who’s Sam?”

     Jack grins, and with a flash of light, the eyeball is sitting in his palms, chirping aggitatedly about the Sam.

    “ _Oh my god!! Is that - that’s an eyeball!_ ”

    “Yep!”

     “He’s well-trained guys, I promise.”

     “Wanna hold him?”

     “Uh. . .how about no?”

     “Tyler?”

      “Sure.”

     “So wanna hear how we all found out?”

     “Oh my gosh Phil, really?”

     “What?”

      _Exasperated fond embarrassed friend._

     Dan rolled his eyes as Phil launched into the story, Mark huffing laughter under a smile, while Jack took back Sam from Tyler, trying vainly to get Ethan to pet him.

    And the sun lit gray clouds into gold and orange and pink, tinging and bleeding out into the sea, while they spent the time away recounting memories old in order to make memories new.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I decided ultimately that there doesn’t have to be a grand reveal. It doesn’t need to be dramatic or a hardship. Because this series is about snippets of life, friendship. Hence why this may feel “filler” or “slow” to some. But I’m mostly pleased with it.
> 
> Also, just an aside: hey, Decaf and KitKat, just hope you guys are doing well!!


	19. Hide (POST)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh, hey, look; it’s been a bit, hasn’t it?
> 
> Just been busy and such ,:D hope y’all are doing well!!!
> 
> Also, this will be spoilerish, but I feel it’s important to address: No, Mark is not trying to take advantage of Dan or belittle him in any way. He is _not_ a means to an end. He’s reluctant and guilty even considering this, but it was the first thing to come to mind. I’m hoping that this doesn’t come across hurtful or offensive in any way, and if it does, feel free to let me know. Don’t worry; this is a happy piece ^u^.

    Dan knew as soon as he got home that  _something_ was up.

   Jack was still at work, as was Phil, but Mark had the day off; so why didn’t he hear his friend in the kitchen, or chatting on the phone with that girl he met, Amy? It was quiet, so much so that Dan almost thought no one was home.

    And then he felt the faint tell-tale trail of feelings.

    It was _excitement_ and _worry_ with  _uncertainty_  tinging with  _determination_.

   And, fainter, more like a taste than anything he could discern, was something cottony like gauze with a sharp bite like hesitance. Wariness? It was familiar, though he couldn’t quite place what. . .

    Mark’s door cracked open, down the hall, and he could hear the room’s occupant muttering lowly to something - it turned into a yelp as the door was forcefully shoved open, and something hurtled into the living room, claws skidding on the floor.

    It was a golden retriever of some sort, and it stopped short at the sight of Dan.

    _Oh_ , he thought with faint amused befuddlement.  _Animal emotions._

    The dog gave a soft _whuff_ , and Mark nearly tripped over it as he raced into the room and caught sight of Dan.

    “I can explain.” 

    Dan nearly laughed at the look on Mark’s face: wide eyed, half crouched down to the dog and arms out. He was more surprised than bemused, so all he said was, “. .okay?” He looked down as the dog licked his fingers, hesitantly wagging its tail.

     Mark dropped down to the dog, giving her vigorous scratches and distracting her from Dan; she gave a few hefty thumps of her tail, while Mark spoke without looking up.

    “So I was on a walk and found her just wandering. No tag, no people around. She was pretty dirty too, so I brought her home for a bath. Was just about to heat up some ground beef for her when you got back.”

    Sure enough, when Dan crouched down to pet her, her fur was soft and damp. Still caught off guard, he just hummed.

    It was quiet for a bit, Mark giving off a constant nervous energy, and Dan merely _befuddled_. 

     “So what are we doing with . . .her,” he glanced at Mark, who nodded, “next? We can’t have pets here.”

    Mark said nothing, just petting the dog.

     “Mark.”

     He started muttering and cooing at the Golden, squishing her face. The dog happily panting.

    “ _Mark_.”

     There was a sharp crack of something indiscernible, and his friend looked up with guilty eyes. It was weird, to see Mark, who was basically the head of the house, seem so - so, cowed and uncertain.

    “So. . .I kinda have a plan on how we _could_ maybe keep her? But I’d need your help.”

    Dan bit his tongue, wincing. There was only one plan that Dan could think of that would require his help. He didn’t _want_ to be the reasonable one in this situation. But. . .

    He looked down at the dog, who, feeling safe, was laying on side and eagerly awaiting pats.

    But also-

    Dan sighed, shoulders drooping. “Look, I want to help; hell knows we’d all benefit from a dog. But my abilities don’t work that way; I can’t control other people’s emotions. My influence has to do with my bond with others. And it’s symbiotic - I cant just,” he gestures vaguely.

    “Oh, wait, no. I didn’t mean that,” Mark’s face split into a grin, “I’m not stupid. I was thinking more along the lines of. . .uh. . .”

    The sharp, tinfoil-like crackle of _guilt_ hit him, and Dan felt himself tense in response.

   Mark seemed to  _melt_ ; _dejected_ and _worried_ and a whole slew of complex feelings Dan couldn't keep up with, much less detangle. 

   "Look," Mark finally sighed, "it's not the best idea, but it'd avoid lying and hiding Chi-  _her_ , I just hate to ask this of you-" 

    Dan's brow scrunched. "Mark, you can just  _tell_ me-"

    "I was thinking we could get her certified as an emotional support animal." He looked fully at Dan then. "But in order to do that we'd need to certify her  _for_ someone. And since you have a depression diagnosis. . ."

     "Oh," Dan breathed out softly. He wasn't . . .hurt, exactly. It was something  _uncertain_ and maybe a little  _nervous_ , a sharp tang kinda like greek yogurt, because he knew that Mark wasn't trying to just use him as a means to an end, or expose him or embarrass him. It's just. . . Dan wasn't all that open about it with anyone except maybe Phil, so to hear anyone bluntly bring it up. . . and the context-

   Mark huffed something too dull to be a laugh. "Forget it, I shouldn't have even brought it up. I'm sorry, Dan, that wasn't- I'm sorry."

   "No, it's fine," Dan found himself feeling emboldened. It wasn't exactly a bad idea, and, seeing how smitten Mark was with her. . . he could do this. For his friend. "I think - I think it's a good idea. It'd be good for all of us, and you're right; it's the best way to go about it legally."

    Mark's eyes practically turn into stars; Dan's almost blown back by the pure  _happiness_ radiating from him. Then, he giggles.

    Dan narrows his eyes; here they're having a good moment, and Mark's suddenly laughing. "What."

    "It's just- ' _best way to go about it_ _legally?'_ " Mark shakes his head and smiling _fondly_ , standing up, "Only  _you'd_ say it like that." The dog barks and jumps up at him. "Ain't that right, Chica?"

    "Oh my god, you already named her?"

    Mark ignores him, babying the dog, and Dan can't help rolling his eyes, a small grin stretching across his face. "Guess we have a dog now."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, I had some trouble with this one so sorry if it’s a little off ,:D. Just wanted to introduce Chica so she can pop up in later chapters!! EDIT: gosh dinging darning _d i a l og u e_.
> 
>  
> 
> ***later***
> 
>  
> 
> P: OH MY GOD WE HAVE A DOG-  
> J: WHEN THE EF FING HELL-  
> M:WAIT CHICA NO COME BACK-  
> D: too late, Mark  
> J while P is rubbing Chica's tummy, J next to him: OURS NOW EFFERS


	20. Door

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I dunno why I just got the idea for this and thought it was funny.
> 
> Thanks to Ori-kunn for suggestions :3.
> 
> I’m gonna try to go over it before I post it; my thoughts are feeling funny (too fast and slow) and I want to make sure this makes sense.

     It was, undoubtedly, one of those weeks.

     Jack opens the door, ready to shower after work and eat whatever Mark and Dan are cooking. The fire alarm is going off, which isn’t a first, and it doesn’t mean that anything is actually being burnt, per se, so Jack crosses his fingers in some semblance of a prayer that it’ll be an actual meal.

    Those hopes are dashed as the door swings open, to show a frozen Mark, an oven mitt on one hand and an unplugged straightener in the other, Dan clinging to his ankle and being dragged across the floor with his hair half straightened and half its wild curly self.

    Mark’s hair is half straightened, too, hanging limply and covering one eye.

     They stare at one another, until Mark and Dan blurt, “It’s Tuesday.” As if that explains anything.

    After a moment, Jack shuts the door and turns to leave.

    He’ll . . .pick up a pizza.

* * *

 

     Phil opens the door, humming and smiling - Work had been lots of fun today!

    That smile drops when he catches sight of the living room.

     He scurries past to his room, ignoring Jack’s weak pleas for help.

    Hey, if he wanted to wrestle Mark and destroy the living room - and lose, might he add - then he could deal with it himself.

* * *

     Mark opens the door with a sigh, exhausted. He hangs his keys by the door, ready to shower and nap.

    He finally registers what his mind had tried so hard to shield him from.

     “So. . .uh. . .”

     “Don’t.” Mark rubs a hand across his face. “Just. . .don’t.”

     He stomps past Jack, who’s head turns to follow, dislodging more glitter out of his hair.

     Mark was _so_ not helping him vacuum that up. He caught sight of Sam, hiding on the book shelf. The little eyeball seemed to agree.

* * *

      Dan climbs the stairs with a sense of trepidation hanging over him. It’s not the first, nor will it be the last time that this has happened.

    He drops his keys with a muttered curse, and stoops to pick them up. He goes to put the key in -

-and the door swings open to reveal Wilford, who grabs Dan by the shoulder and drags him in, muttering wildly.

      _Oh god this is going to be Tuesday again all over, isn’t it?_

* * *

     When Jack manages to open the door, hefting the grocery bags into his arm, he merely sighs.

    Phil is standing halfway between the kitchen and the ‘dining room’ section if there’s living room, powdered from head to toe in flour.

    He smiles sheepishly. “Ah ha, uh, I guess Dan was wrong; I could get paler?”

    “Ah’m gonna hose you in th’ kitchen.”

    “. . .please don’t.”

* * *

      It’s not uncommon for chaos to descend upon the apartment - thought rarely is it invited.

      Sundays are the one saving grace of the week; if someone were to walk into the apartment today, they’d come face to face with Chica running around and happily panting while Jack chases her and Mark tries to call her, Dan being bowled over and licked while Phil is snorting with raucous, sputtered laughter. 

    And Sam and Tim are watching with rapt amusement, making their own comments (or noises, in Sam’s case) as Chica leaps up, smacking into Jack and knocking him down; Phil is biting his tongue in amusement and Mark can barely breathe as Jack starts trying to gently get the big dog off of him. And there’s  _happy_ and  _friendship_ with  _warmth kindness joy amusement-_

    It’s a perfect way to end a week, before Monday comes and their door opens to chaos once more.

**Author's Note:**

> I'm a little bit ruuussssttyyy.


End file.
